Through Time, Darkly

[Pryce]

Several Days Later...


<span style="font-size:10pt;line-height:100%][color=#FFFF00] Charisma's Coffee
Somewhere on Planet Manhattan

It wasn't one of those chain coffee shops. Doctor Owens had suggested the

establishment. A small family owned venture, one having survived the last twenty eight years against it's much larger competition, mostly due to an often varied, but loyal clientele, that was attracted for one reason or another to the relatively sleepy outskirts of the nearby metropolis. Advertised in no other way than by word of mouth, The business was located atop an office building,with a veranda outside the shop, the customers treated to views of both the city, and of the mountain ranges to the north. The veranda was decorated with a startling array of flora, the wide spectrum of colors and scents further enforcing the natural setting of the quiet refuge.


Denise Ellis sat towards the edge of the veranda, her chair one beautifully hand-carved, of some species of rich, dark wood, topped with a thick, soft cushion of a dark maroon colour. A welcome change from the sterile coldness of the Institutes' furnishings. Her dress, also, far different than the normal constraints of her profession. She wore a dark blue sundress, new, of a mid-thigh length presently in fashion on the planet. Her legs crossed beneath the small table, her feet resting within the shiny black heels she had purchased earlier in the morning. Her long, golden blonde hair rested on her shoulders, a few strands falling forward as she leaned slightly towards the table, reading the printed work spread out upon the table surface.


It was a collecting hobby to which she had first been exposed to by her mentor. An excentric portion of the populace, in paticular of the Academia, had first pioneered, then later became patron of, the archaic concept of the printed page, manifested by the reappearance of the bound book. In a generation often harmed by the advancement of technology, at least in the opinion of some, the bound book returned a tangible form to knowledge and the arts. Rather than read from the glare of a screen, or from what some considered the invasiveness of the neural net, there was a small number who practiced the reviving trade, in order to sell to the growing circle of buyers.


Most books she obtained after saving for weeks to purchase. This one, being more condensed then most she had gotten, She was able to order just prior to the start of her time off. It had been awaiting her when she'd made planetfall, and after picking it up, she'd eagerly taken a taxi to this place, in order she might read it without interruption.


"In that part of the book of my memory, before which little can be read, there is a heading, which says:Here begins a new life."


Words of a man, having been written over six hundred years before mankind first began his efforts to leave the surface of Terra; And still this mans' words survived. The authors work, in his own words, had been to "Write that which has never been written of any woman." As she read, she became convinced the author had completed that task.


As she read the words, she grew more and more deeply touched. She could feel his love for the woman as he had, the joy her mere presence caused him; and then the anguish, the deepest sadness at his loves' death.


She suddenly became aware that some while had passed. She leaned back from the table, realizing that her eyes were damp. She was a little unsettled by how deeply the work had affected her. That a mans words could have such power after so long. Was that not a glorious reward for ones life? She frowned. Technology, by its own nature, would always become old, become obsolete. The greatest inventors were marveled at, for a time, but at some point no longer relevant. She realized how much respect she had for this author, who had done nothing more than preserve that which he had felt in his life.


[color=#33CC00]Incoming Transmission: Open channel?

"Hello?"

"Hello Mrs. Ellis, it's Brenda at the Institute." Brenda was one of the few at the Institute who still addressed her as "Mrs.", apparently unconcerned with whatever had made others switch to "Ms".

Maybe if she could finally get her doctorate, she could settle that...matter.

"Oh, hi Brenda!"

"I'm afraid I have some unpleasant news."

A chill ran down Densies' spine. Is it David?

"What's happened?" She asked cautiously.

"Captain Wells' ship was attacked outside of Los Angeles. Apparently fairly severely damaged. He managed to get back to the planet, and landed hard at a port some distance from the Institute."

Denise fought back a wave of emotion she heard the news. Has someone else been....

"Was anyone hurt?"

"We don't know yet, Mrs. Ellis.We haven't been able to get back into contact with the ship. Doctor Altura and some of the other staff are taking a transport out there to see what the situation is.

"Alright. Contact all the staff still here on Manhattan, and see if you can arrange a transport for California." I'm going to take an express right away."

"Understood Mrs Ellis."

Denise closed the channel and rose from the chair. After thanking the waitress, she paid her bill and stepped out towards the edge of the veranda, and looked towards the horizon.

So many friends, old and new, are on that ship. Have I lost any?

The sky told her nothing, and she saw only the growing overcast of a coming storm....

---

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